


The Ghost of You

by fluteandguqin



Category: AOMG, K-hiphop, ambition gang, h1ghr, h1ghr gang
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Angst, Angst and Romance, Gang AU, Hostage Situations, M/M, Sad Ending, Secrets, Torture, h1ghr gang as an actual gang, tattoo artist ash island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22832281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluteandguqin/pseuds/fluteandguqin
Summary: Yoon Jinyoung's life was perfectly normal. But in everyone's life there's that moment where everything turns on its head.
Relationships: Jung Kiseok | Simon D/Park Jaebeom | Jay Park, Ku Changmo/Yoon Jinyoung | ASH ISLAND, Lee Sunghwa | Gray/Woo Wonjae
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	The Ghost of You

We never know what life has in store for us. Sometimes, we think we know where we’re going, something turns. Then, everything changes.

For a while, Jinyoung’s life was completely normal. He had everything he could ask for at the age of 22. A job. A place of his own. A pet ferret. A social life.

How did he get from that, to bleeding out onto the concrete floor of an underground warehouse?

It was all because of an encounter that would completely change the course of Jinyoung’s life, even though he didn’t know it at the time.

Changmo first came into the shop one cloudy September morning. Jinyoung had an appointment later that day, and knowing that he rarely had walk-ins in the morning, he allowed himself to doze off in the chair, with his feet up on the counter and steam steadily rising from his colour changing mug.

The bell scared him. His chair nearly tipped over as he jumped, and he needed a second to calm his racing heart before deeming himself capable of greeting his customer.

He wore a hoodie, as he often did. He had his hood up, blonde bangs falling into his eyes. Despite his hunched back, an effort to make himself seem smaller, he still towered over Jinyoung as he approached, resting his elbows on the counter. He had a nasty looking bruise under his left eye, black and blue spreading down to his cheekbone.

Their first interaction was mostly professional. Although sleepy and a little intimidated, Jinyoung did his best to at least appear friendly. Most importantly, he had to make sure not to mess up any formalities that could get him in legal trouble or result in the customer’s dissatisfaction.

Changmo was looking for a cover-up. He had a tattoo done in red ink at the back of his neck, right beneath his hairline. It was a symbol which Jinyounug immediately recognized as a rune, perth, meaning initiation or a secret. Jinyoung had a thing for various symbols, and especially runes. As it was one broken line, it wasn’t difficult to decide on a coloured piece to cover it up; Changmo chose a winding dragon.

After their odd and slightly unnerving first encounter, Jinyoung could say that he hoped not to see the man again. It was the hood, the ominous symbol on his neck, the bruise and the fact that Jinyoung never saw his eyes properly. The man named Changmo was someone Jinyoung didn’t want to be overly close to.

Yet a month or so later, he ended up on the front step of Jinyoung’s shop.

A November downpour, Jinyoung couldn’t even see across the street from the thickness of the fall. Water ran down the street, drumming upwards whenever the heavy raindrops landed in the streams.

Having finished his tea, Jinyoung’s mug was turning white as it cooled down. He was staring out the window, looking at the disaster outside, wondering how he would make it home in that weather as that morning he’d only taken a denim jacket and no umbrella.

From the grayness of the outside, a dark figure emerged. He stopped in front of the shop, under the terrace that was above the door. Jinyoung didn’t need to look at him up close to recognize him. The moment he pulled his hood down and ruffled his damp hair, the tattoo Jinyoung had done a month ago was visible.

He was in a dilemma. Inviting him in was the right thing to do; Jinyoung knew very well that sitting inside and watching Changmo shiver in the cold would’ve been cruel. But there was still a kind of aversion to the man, something that made him want to keep his distance.

For the sake of avoiding overwhelming guilt, Jinyoung had to get over it.

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Jinyoung dragged himself to the door. He pulled it open, the cool air and stray raindrops made him shudder beneath his hoodie.

The action attracted Changmo’s attention. He whipped around, frowning Jinyoung’s way. Changmo was clutching his phone in his hand, hugging himself with his shoulders raised and tense. It was because of the cold, but to Jinyoung it still seemed like an attempt to make himself look smaller.

“Oh hey,” he greeted with chattering teeth.

“Hi,” Jinyoung answered. He had to take a second before making the offer, “Do you wanna come in until this—” he nodded towards the street, “—passes?”

The frown first turned into an expression of surprise, and then Changmo smiled. “Yes please,” he said.

From that moment on he appeared like an entirely different person. Jinyoung later recalled their first meeting, tried to remember every single detail in hopes of understanding why had he gotten two such different impressions of the same person. He wondered also, which one was the more accurate one.

It was the little things, Jinyoung decided. It was the fact that Changmo’s hair was dyed black and his bangs had been pushed out of his face. It was the way his hair got fluffy as it dried from the rain. It was the way he hid his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie.

It was his dimples, his crescent eyes. These things Jinyoung couldn’t notice before, because the first time they met Changmo hadn’t smiled once.

They talked a lot that night. It was awkward at first, but once the conversation started, it was difficult to stop. Something Jinyoung had noticed the last time was how surprisingly soft spoken Changmo was. The only difference between then and now was that before it added onto the gloominess Jinyoung had picked up from him, and now it added onto how he seemed to be trying to shrink, be invisible even.

Jinyoung got to learn that despite this, Changmo laughed deeply, from the chest. He learned that the longer the conversation was, the less Changmo held back, laughing and speaking louder.

That night Jinyoung found out that Changmo had moved in near his shop only a few months ago. He lived alone and had no pets. He was a retail worker, a university dropout, but he was hoping to finish it sometime soon. Jinyoung also learned a lot about what Changmo thought of the education system in South Korea, how he felt about traditional values compared to the insistence on change and progress.

In turn Changmo got to hear Jinyoung’s opinions on those topics, but he also listened to the story of how Jinyoung had ended up working as a tattoo artist, all about his days as a med student trying to get a license while working on picking up the craft itself. Changmo also found out that Jinyoung lived alone, not too far from the shop either, with his ferret named Huchu. (This made him laugh. “A ferret? I don’t know anyone who has a ferret as a pet!”)

By the time it stopped pouring, they were deep in conversation and found it difficult to part ways. They went outside for a smoke, just an excuse to keep the conversation last for the length of a cigarette more.

Jinyoung agonized over this encounter. He wondered what happened for him to have misjudged the man so badly, and then again, if he had misjudged at all. At some point he gave up, however. There was no use racking his brain. He would get the chance to see the man again, and decide what held up.

Because after so kindly waiting for Jinyoung to close the shop, Changmo had timidly asked for his number.

Jinyoung decided that he had misjudged. It was apparent after no more than a few dates. Granted, at times a sense of oddness radiating off the other would come over Jinyoung, but for the most part he was the person Jinyoung had talked to that rainy evening in his shop.

Changmo was odd. Him and Jinyoung only kept getting closer as time went by, but no matter how far this went Jinyoung still always felt like there was an invisible wall between them. The thought of never being able to understand Changmo scared him, but he told himself that it’s only natural. People can never fully understand one another even when unbreakable bonds exist. Even though this wasn’t the case, even though Jinyoung knew it was something indistinct and deeply unsettling, he still tried to put himself at ease.

The store where Changmo worked wasn’t far from Jinyoung’s shop. Very soon Changmo made a habit of visiting Jinyoung during their breaks that were almost perfectly aligned. Changmo had said that Jinyoung’s shop was cozy, that he would enjoy spending more time in there, like he had that night when they’d talked.

During the first months of their friendship, he would often come in with bruises and cuts on his knuckles and an occasional black eye that he didn’t have the day before. Jinyoung had picked up early on that he disliked talking about himself, his appearance or his past, but it was something Jinyoung couldn’t ignore, so he asked. To his surprise, Changmo reacted well. “I started boxing,” he said. Jinyoung made a few inquiries about the club and the training and that was the end of the conversation.

Over time the injuries became less frequent until they completely disappeared. When Jinyoung asked if Changmo had quit boxing, he was completely lost for a moment. Then he said that yes, he had quit. It simply hadn’t been his calling.

Jinyoung knew that Changmo was lying to him. He could always tell, no matter who it was. The fact that it was Changmo made it all the easier to tell. He wasn’t a bad liar, but it was Jinyoung he faltered before.

He could even tell exactly what the lies were. That all those months he had not been training boxing. The little of what he had said about his family and how he got to Seoul, none of it was true. It was really quite easy to tell, from the ambiguity of his statements.

At times it didn’t matter. At times Jinyoung couldn’t care less about Changmo’s past or his hidden affairs because all that mattered was the present moment; the way he tried to sink into his hoodies and hide his face whenever Jinyoung complimented him. His embarrassed giggle when Jinyoung poked his dimple. His insistence on attempting to read every single word tattooed on Jinyoung’s arm. Him playing with Huchu, a stretch of fur curling around his neck as he laughed. Him pushing Jinyoung’s bangs back and securing them with hair clips saying, “There. I can finally see your face.”

Other times though, it was all he could think about. It kept him up at night, plagued his mind until he was nauseous. Those times he doubted everything, every single thing Changmo had ever told him, everything except that he loved him. This he couldn’t doubt lest he go insane.

But it worked. At some point Jinyoung accepted the fact that he might never know the truth, but at that point he also believed that it didn’t matter anymore. Because it  _ worked _ . And after Changmo stopped showing up bruised and cut up, when he told Jinyoung that he was about to try finishing college, Jinyoung thought that things were perfect and could only go up from there.

Thinking back to it, that day started like any other.

Changmo had been a bit distant, he’d been tired and irritable at times, but Jinyoung figured it was due to his attempts at adjusting to being back in school at the age of 27. He did his best to be there for Changmo, but he only seemed to be keeping Jinyoung away. He thought that it was fine, that it would pass soon, once Changmo had adjusted.

That day Changmo’s visit to Jinyoung’s shop during their break was a pleasant one. They ate together, had a smoke, talked. It may have been too optimistic of an observation but Jinyoung thought that Changmo was less distant. He hoped that things were returning to normal.

When they were parting ways, Changmo held Jinyoung just a little too tightly. He said “I love you” with a finality that made Jinyoung ask, “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Changmo only smiled and said that yes, of course he would.

Jinyoung wanted to trust Changmo, so he let it go. He did his best not to think about it for the rest of the day.

And for the most part, he succeeded. He went on with his work, made a few sketches he was really proud of, took care of a few customers. It was when he closed up shop that things got weird.

He went out on the street like any other day. His jacket on, phone in his pocket, earphones in. He walked slowly, bobbing his head to a pleasant beat of his favourite artist. The moon was hidden behind stormy clouds. The darkness was startling, as quite a few street lights seemed to have burned out. Jinyoung found it odd, and although he was used to making his way through poorly lit streets of his neighborhood, it made him feel uneasy.

He picked up the pace.

The beat in his earphones did too. It was one of his favourite songs, but the bass matched the racing of his heart and Jinyoung suddenly felt like listening to something quieter. He stopped walking in order to pick out a different song.

Shivers ran down his spine and he raised his head, whipped around to look behind himself, only to see that he was still all alone in the middle of the street. He thought it was the sound of someone stepping on a branch, the tell-tale sign of being stalked, if cartoons were to be trusted. He made sure to check, but there was no branch anywhere to be found on the ground.

He knew that he must have imagined it, but at the same time his racing heart couldn’t have been just the aftermath of a fakeout scare.

He wasn’t taking any chances.

With shaky hands, Jinyoung pulled his earphones out and shoved them in his pocket. Instead of picking a song, he typed the number 112 and kept his thumb close to the dial button. He turned back around and kept on walking.

Jinyoung had never been so aware of his surroundings. Never had he checked every single passage between buildings, every single entrance that went a bit too deep into the building, every single parked car he had to walk by. Often he turned to look behind himself, with such intensity that each time he gave himself whiplash.

This is when he remembered Changmo’s  _ I love you _ that sounded like a goodbye. Truth is, Jinyoung had no tangible reason to feel like he was in danger, but he did. And because he did, he made up scenarios in his head. The lightmotif of all of the horrendous thoughts his panicked mind conjured was that that afternoon was his last time seeing Changmo, the last time he got to hear or say those words.

It made him lose control of his breathing to the point where his chest hurt. It made his vision blur and he felt  _ stupid _ , stupid for getting so worked up over  _ nothing _ , a mere feeling that was not reality based.

He couldn’t wait to be home, to roll his eyes at himself from a few moments ago.

Jinyoung was in front of his building much quicker than any other day. Usually he enjoyed the twenty minute walk between the shop and his apartment, whether he was going to work or going home. This time, he arrived in less than ten minutes, winded and sweating, but safe.

Except that there was someone sitting on the doorstep. Other than the faint light coming from his phone’s screen, the man was mostly shrouded in darkness as the one lamp post that was closest to this particular entrance had gone out. The blue hue illuminated his sharp cheekbones and jawline. A bandana completely covered his head and a mask covered the lower half of his face. He was chewing gum.

It wasn’t unusual for people to hang out on doorsteps of various apartment buildings, oftentimes drinking, or just waiting as this man seemed to be doing. Still, his presence, right in the path Jinyoung needed to take to final safety, filled him with dread.

As he got closer, Jinyoung found a reason why.

The man had a mark on his neck, done in red ink, depicting the rune perth.

Jinyoung froze. He pretended to look at his phone, as if he’d forgotten something, and turned around. It was also an opportunity to check if the number was still there, and be ready to dial.

Then again turning his back to the ominous presence of the man with the bandana might have been a bad idea.

As soon as he lifted his gaze, a hand clasped over his mouth, another grabbed his wrist, smacking his phone out of his hand.

He began to scream. He trashed and kicked, to no avail. His shouting was muffled by the hand over his mouth. No matter his fierce fight, Jinyoung was outnumbered. He never stood a chance.

Despite this, he kept trying, but when his fight was at its strongest, a smack to the back of the head made his vision go black.

* * *

Jinyoung was no stranger to concussions.

At fifteen he’d taken up boxing. He was getting sick and tired of being picked on for his height and for liking to wear his hair long. Truth was, he’d been scared. He knew his classmates to be ruthless to other younger and smaller kids. He just wanted to be ready. He suffered several concussions in training and in a fight with his classmates.

He didn’t start the fight. For a very long time the bullies didn’t resort to physical violence, not until that time Jinyoung was seen kissing a boy from his class. They thought they had them cornered, but they didn’t count on Jinyoung fighting back. He broke a boy’s nose. Ultimately he was beaten down by the others, and he himself ended up at the hospital.

Jinyoung never spoke to the boy he’d kissed again.

At the hospital, to pass the time, only when his vision wasn’t blurry, he drew. When he was seeing a therapist for his supposed anger management issues, he was taught to use drawing as a way to vent out his emotions. Only later did he learn that as a tattoo artist he could utilize his newly found passion, but that was when it all began, that was how he decided to pick up the craft.

This story was what had been the most difficult thing to tell Changmo. It was so hard because Changmo himself was so reluctant to share details about his past. People aren’t willing to open up to someone unless the other person is willing to do the same.

Still, he told the story, because he needed Changmo to understand why he was so scared of proximity.

Changmo only said that he understood. Without going into details he said that as a teen he was terrified of his own strength that he seemed to have gained out of nowhere. He said that despite this, many times he had been in situations where he’d had to use it, and that he too had hated being so overwhelmed to the point of losing control.

Sitting tied to a chair in a dimly lit room, Jinyoung wondered if he should have been more insistent on learning more about Changmo’s past.

It was a concussion no doubt. He felt the chair he was sitting upon, hands tied behind his back. He knew himself to be in an upright position, but he felt like he was floating, spinning. The splitting headache had rendered him disoriented, dizzy and sick to his stomach. When he managed to open his eyes, his vision was blurry.

“Morning sleepyhead.”

The voice was melodic. Jinyoung blinked furiously, straining himself to see. Two figures, dressed in black. That the man had a mask over his face Jinyoung could tell from how muffled the voice had been. But he didn’t see much else, not yet.

“Don’t talk to him.” This one was low, sharp.

Jinyoung continued blinking. He made out a table. Another chair. A set of stairs. A person sitting on the last step, leaning casually onto a rifle like a cane. His cheek was pressed directly onto the barrel. He wore a bandana over his head and he was chewing gum.

The other one was leaning onto the table with his arms crossed. Unlike his friend—or colleague or associate, Jinyoung couldn’t judge—he wasn’t wearing a mask. His bandana was the thing covering his face.

“I’m just trying to be friendly,” the man with the mask said, just as sweetly as he’d wished Jinyoung a good morning. “Kid’s probably pissing his pants by now.”

At that point Jinyoung was finally able to make out some details. He saw that the man who was standing had a tattoo running up the side of his neck, a thorny branch that reached up to behind his ear. It was pretty enough, but he too had the red mark down by his collarbone, which, in Jinyoung’s humble professional opinion, ruined the look.

“Nah,” Jinyoung spoke, startled by the hoarseness of his own voice. “I’m just tryna figure out who’s your tattoo artist. ‘Cus he fucking sucks.”

The men exchanged looks. Then the one with the rifle burst out laughing. He stood up and rested the rifle on his shoulder. “I’m gonna go get Jay. He’ll have fun with this one.”

As he was left alone with the other man, Jinyoung figured it was as good a time as any to start trying to get some answers.

“You know you bonked me pretty hard. You couldn’t invest in a drug or something? Would’ve hurt way less.”

The man with the thorn tattoo did not answer.

“I’ve got a concussion now, my head hurts a lot. Do you at least have some medicine you can give me or something?”

The man shook his head and sighed. “I didn’t expect you to be such a pain in the ass. You seemed so quiet while we were watching you, I thought it would be a breeze. I can’t wait to be done with you.”

Jinyoung stopped to collect his thoughts. He couldn’t say he appreciated his intuition being correct in this particular case and he also would’ve appreciated it more if his intuition had worked a bit earlier than the moment he was being stalked through the streets of his neighborhood.

“And what exactly is it that you’ll be doing with me?” He asked in as casual a tone as he could muster.

Once again there was no answer.

Jinyoung looked to the side. He looked at the musky concrete walls and the rusty pipes running along them. If he’d been watched, then he knew he couldn’t fully play this card. Still, it was worth a shot.

“We’ve only known each other for a few months. You’ve been watching us so I assume you know.” He looked back ahead making sure to keep eye contact with his captor. “He’s not  _ that _ infatuated with me. Wouldn’t risk his life for me, that’s for sure.”

The man was silent for so long that Jinyoung thought he would get no answer once again. But then he spoke, and his voice echoed, “We know him much better than you do.”

He pushed himself off the table and began pacing. “I know, everyone wants to believe they know their significant other the best, that they’ve… cracked their code. Helped them open up, all that.” He stopped, right in front of Jinyoung. “All that’s a bunch of bullshit. And I hate to be the one to deliver this news, but you don’t know shit about Ku Changmo.”

Jinyoung stared up at the man. He wanted to be better than this, he wanted to stay calm but his breathing was picking up, his chest was rising and falling, and his distress was becoming visible.

“Some news that is. He never told me anything.” Finally, Jinyoung averted his gaze.

“Sucks to find out like this, huh?”

The silence stretched, yet Jinyoung could still see the man’s boots right in front of him.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this.”

Jinyoung looked for malice or mockery in the man’s voice, but he found none. He found nothing but genuine remorse. He lifted his head, but by the time he did, the man had turned around and was making his way back towards the table. At that distance, Jinyoung couldn’t make out his eyes.

Jinyoung didn’t get the chance to think of anything else to say. Metallic screeching hit his eardrums as someone burst through the door. With confident strides another man walked in, followed by the one with the rifle and someone else with short black hair and a sharp gaze.

This time the rifle one wasn’t chewing gum, but he had a bag of walnuts that he was munching on, popping them into his mouth from behind his mask.

As for the newcomers… One had a leather mask covering the lower half of his face, yet he was shirtless. Jinyoung grimaced, eyes immediately darted towards his tattoo sleeve and the large lion on his chest.

The other strolled slowly, was also wearing a bandana to cover his face, and carried what from that distance looked like a camera. When he came a little closer, Jinyoung saw that it indeed was one.

Jinyoung ended up addressing the one with the lion tattoo as he appeared to be the easier target, “And what are you, the sidekick?”

The man laughed wholeheartedly. Without taking his eyes off of Jinyoung, he said, “You were right, Simon. I’m gonna have fun with this one.”

He strolled forward, hands in his pockets. Jinyoung couldn’t take his eyes off his chest simply because it was so damn distracting. The contrast between his bare torso and covered face was bizarre and Jinyoung hated having to look at it.

“I’m Jay,” he spoke at last, leaning in so much that Jinyoung had to lean back to the point of danger of tipping over. “Pleased to meet you.”

Jinyoung’s heart stopped when he reached out. He grabbed Jinyoung by the hair, tilting his head back. Jinyoung stomped his foot and gritted his teeth, shooting daggers Jay’s way.

“Can I help you, shortie?” He hissed.

This amused Jay as well, judging by the little smile on his lips. However, Jinyoung saw a spark of anger in his eyes.

“You can, actually. You’ll help us all.” With that, Jay let go of Jinyoung and straightened up.

Heart drumming in his throat, Jinyoung finally got to look ahead, then down. He spotted the untied shoelace of Jay’s expensive looking sneakers and something popped into his head.

He had to act fast as Jay was already walking away. Jinyoung reached with his foot to step on the shoelace. In a matter of seconds Jay was sprawled out on the floor, having given a high-pitched yelp as he tumbled.

Jinyoung grinned. Not only did  _ he  _ grin, but the others burst out laughing as well. Simon and the other man who came in with Jay were doubled over, but Jinyoung was surprised that even the man with the thorn tattoo cracked a smile.

This was telling. Jay was not their leader as he tried to present himself in the beginning. More so a colleague or an associate. Or the very least, he was a leader who didn’t have that much authority.

Jinyoung was quite proud of himself.

Until Jay stood up.

Jinyoung had just enough balls to smile in his face as he stomped over. But then he kicked the chair, effectively tipping it over. Jinyoung’s head smacked against the concrete and he saw black dots on white everywhere around him.

His sight didn’t return for quite a while. There was movement around him but he didn’t see what it was. He only understood what was going on once his arms were free. He tried to scramble to his feet, only to fall down due to being sick to his stomach.

There was laughter. It wasn’t Jay, he was much too angry.

“Gray, get this,” a voice said, a voice that could’ve been Simon’s as it sounded more muffled than the rest because of the nuts he was eating.

Gray, Gray must have been the one with the camera. Because their plan then became clear to Jinyoung.

Soon he was grabbed and slammed again, but Jinyoung genuinely couldn’t tell whether it was against a wall or the floor. His feet weren’t touching the ground either way.

“You little fuck,” Jay’s voice was close to Jinyoung’s face and Jinyoung turned his head away, closing his eyes tightly. He could throw up any moment now. Two concussions in a row would do that.

“Don’t get so heated Jay,” Simon said cheerfully. “Show him how we have fun instead.”

For a moment all Jinyoung could hear was Jay’s hot breath. It slowly slowed down, until he let go of Jinyoung.

Then he received a punch to the face. And another. And another.

Jinyoung slid down what must’ve been a wall.

“Going out so soon?” Jay mocked. “Simon said this would be fun. But turns out you’re all talk.”

A kick to the stomach and Jinyoung couldn’t hold it anymore. He rolled over and expelled all the contents of his digestive system onto the concrete. He tried to scramble away from the spot immediately as his captors, or at least two of them, laughed.

He was kicked again, rolling onto his back like a rag doll. At this point his sight started returning, white dots clearing from his visions, but not for long.

Pressure came down onto his biceps, growing stronger with every second. All Jinyoung saw was Jay’s grinning face above him.

The burning became greater, Jinyoung’s arm became numb, his head was a pot under pressure about to explode.

And he screamed.

He put his last bits of strength into attempting to wrench out from under Jay’s foot, to no avail. Eventually he gave up, simply wailing into the void.

“Jay that’s  _ enough _ !”

The pressure disappeared. Jinyoung’s arm was numb and burning at the same time. He sobbed quietly on the floor, unable to move.

Someone had pulled Jay off of him. That someone, the man with the thorn tattoo, was being yelled at in the corner.

There was a camera in Jinyoung’s face. The moment he became aware of it, he bit his tongue and did his best to stop crying.

“Fuck you!” He yelled at the lense, and the blank faced man with black hair behind it.

The scolding stopped. Jay started towards Jinyoung.

“We didn’t break him yet, huh—”

“Jay stop!”

Jay turned around and with a swing slapped the man with the thorn tattoo. He fell to the ground, his bandana slipping off his face.

Both on the ground, Jinyoung and him caught each other’s gaze for a second. The man turned his head away and scrambled to put his bandana back over his face.

“JAY YOU FUCKING MORON!” The cameraman yelled. He was done filming, or the very least he had paused the recording. “He saw Woo’s face now! Good fucking job you violent prick!”

The only thing going through Jinyoung’s mind was the fact that Jay couldn’t possibly have been any kind of leader.

Simon approached to help Woo up, but he only pushed him away and got up on his own. Simon then walked over to Jay and in the calmest voice told him, “Control your temper.”

Jay did the exact opposite. He turned to Jinyoung and kicked him one last time.

For the rest of it, Jinyoung was semi conscious. He was back in his chair, tied up. Jay was talking. They were probably still recording but everything was hazy and blurry to Jinyoung. There were only lights, smudged and distant. Jinyoung couldn’t open his eyes.

At some point, he lost consciousness entirely.

* * *

Something soft was under his head, although only slightly managing to lessen the pain brought with lying on concrete.

He wasn’t sure if it was a lack of light sources or his own messed up vision, but he was in complete darkness. Jinyoung opened his eyes, blinked a few times, attempting to survey his surroundings.

The room was just as musky as the previous one, only a lot smaller. A metal, barred and locked door was what was keeping him trapped.

Jinyoung whimpered in pain. His entire body ached, his stomach, his arm, but most importantly his head.

Despite the pain, he immediately tried to get up. There wasn’t much he could do, Jinyoung knew that, but he was still not going to just lie around.

“Don’t.”

A voice. That voice. An image flashed before Jinyoung’s eyes—a branch of thorns, white on black.

In reality it was the other way around. When Jinyoung turned his head, he could see it on the man’s neck. Woo was sitting not too far from him, back against the wall. How had Jinyoung not seen him before? Perhaps his black clothing blended in with Jinyoung’s black vision.

“You’ve got a concussion. You need to rest.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jinyoung’s head, jaw, face hurt as he spoke. He closed his eyes tight, but remained lying down. He got nauseous just from that little attempt, which made him realize that Woo was right.

“I’m keeping an eye on you,” he answered.

Jinyoung scoffed. “Don’t guards usually stand outside?”

Woo didn’t speak for a moment. “I wanted to make sure you were alright. Jay is… He doesn’t have a limit.”

“Oh, I’m splendid. Despite my injuries, I’m quite enjoying the accommodation and the fact that I’m being held captive in order to lure my boyfriend into a trap. It’s all good.”

Woo didn’t answer. He kept playing with a lighter. The flame periodically appeared and disappeared.

“Why make sure I’m alright if you’ll kill me anyway?” Jinyoung had done his best to sound snarky as always, but saying this out loud, his voice cracked.

“You weren’t supposed to—” Woo bowed his head. “But you saw my face.”

“And already forgot it. As if I’m gonna go identify you to the police with my nonexistent photographic memory.” It was silly, fighting for his life like this. He knew exactly what the situation was and yet couldn’t help  _ trying  _ to talk his way out of it.

“We can’t take risks.”

Jinyoung looked at Woo. He sounded awfully content, for someone who was going out of his way to show how much he disliked the plan. Jinyoung couldn’t figure out why. He would’ve thought that Woo would have something against his execution but… Perhaps Jinyoung had misjudged him. Or that slap of Jay’s really did something to his obedience.

“Well. You’re gonna kill me anyway. Might as well tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Woo looked at Jinyoung, he saw it out the corner of his eye as he stared ahead, at the ceiling.

“Changmo and us… We go way back.” Thankfully, Woo understood what Jinyoung truly wanted to know.

“He was an orphan. We picked him up as a kid and he grew up with us.” Woo paused. “He’s a deserter, a rare one who survived betraying us. As you can tell by now… He tried to start a new life. But one doesn’t run from this.”

“He didn’t choose this,” Jinyoung muttered.

“No. He didn’t.”

And that was the end of it. Woo stayed a while—Jinyoung wasn’t aware of the passage of time in this dungeon—then announced that he had to leave.

* * *

He tried to count days, but it only turned into counting how many times he’d slept, which wasn’t very telling. Thankfully, he had Woo visiting a few times to catch him up on the time and keep him company.

The conversations weren’t plentiful. He didn’t give anything away. Not until that night at least.

“Are you feeling any better?” Woo asked, lighting a cigarette.

He had stopped wearing a mask around Jinyoung, unknown to his associates of course; Woo simply thought it pointless and uncomfortable.

Besides, he could smoke this way.

“My head still hurts I just can’t tell if it’s the concussions or sleeping in this shithole with no light.”

Woo gave a dry smile. “You should be okay by now when it comes to the concussions. I can’t do anything about the shithole though.”

Woo had been helpful. He brought Jinyoung blankets, pillows, medicine. Jinyoung didn’t understand why. The man had been sympathetic, yes. He stood up for Jinyoung. But it had struck him as a thing of principle; perhaps he was a pacifist. A gang member pacifist did sound oxymoronic to Jinyoung, but it was more likely than Woo having a personal reason to help. They had never met. Jinyoung was his gang’s captive. Why help him?

“Don’t worry. You’ll be out of here soon.”

Jinyoung’s heart sank. Other than that… He was mostly calm. Perhaps it all still seemed so impossible to Jinyoung that his brain was not accepting the fact that he would die soon.

“Changmo received the video,” Woo continued, much to Jinyoung’s surprise. What more was there to be said? “He’s coming for you.”

“Great,” Jinyoung said surprisingly calmly.

Woo didn’t answer this. He hung around until his cigarette was finished.

* * *

Jinyoung remained calm even as he waited. In fact, he had never been so calm in his life. It was strange. It didn’t feel real.

Maybe that’s why he was so calm. It was all like a dream. In that timeless box Jinyoung couldn’t imagine any of this being real. Not what had happened those days ago, not what was happening at the moment, not what would happen soon.

Nothing after seeing Changmo that evening was real.

Nothing would happen.

Nothing would ever happen.

The door opened with a metallic screech. Woo once again had his bandana over his face, which Jinyoung found odd after all the time spent seeing him without it.

“Get up,” Woo said.

“Huh?”

“ _ Get up! _ We don’t have much time.”

Jinyoung obliged as quickly as he could. His entire body ached numbly, making it hard to move, but Jinyoung focused on every step rather than the throbbing and the burning.

Woo went out the door and Jinyoung followed. His heart began to race. Was he… Was he being rescued?

“Woo—”

No response.

“What’s going on?”

Woo grabbed Jinyoung by the wrist, tugging him behind a corner. Jinyoung was only now noticing the layout of the building, all maze-like, it looked to be an underground facility which purpose Jinyoung truly couldn’t guess.

The walls were gray, concrete, cold and murky. Jinyoung wanted out of that stuffy environment, so he was inclined to follow everything Woo told him.

But he did want answers.

Woo and Jinyoung stood in a dead end, far from the nearest flickering light bulb.

“I… owe Changmo. Not only that but he’s… he’s really a good kid. You’re a good kid. You don’t deserve to die because of our bullshit.”

“You’ll get in trouble,” Jinyoung said, now being the one to grab Woo’s hand. “There must be something we can—”

“If you want to live,” Woo said calmly. “You’ll shut up, follow me, and stop worrying about me. I’ve been dealing with this for ages. I know how to get myself out of trouble.”

Jinyoung was skeptical, but his wish to get out, not to end his life in this dump, urged him to push his worries aside.

Woo began tugging him through the empty, dark hallways. Their footsteps echoed softly even though they tried their best to be quiet.

Coming to a somewhat of a clearing, a wider hallway with a few doors, Woo halted. He gestured for Jinyoung to be quiet and they proceeded to sneak through the empty hallway.

Jinyoung heard voices. It was… it was Jay, for sure. It was him and…

Jinyoung’s heart stopped.

A calm, deep voice he knew all too well. That voice that used to whisper sweet nothings in the safety of either of their homes.

Jinyoung tugged Woo back.

“It’s Changmo,” Jinyoung whispered.

Woo frowned. “Yeah. We don’t have time for this.”

“But—”

“Jinyoung, he has to stay,” Woo hissed. “That’s the only way you’ll get out of here.”

He didn’t even give Jinyoung a chance to absorb this information, Woo was already pulling him along.

He didn’t want to go anymore. He wanted to stay, to be by Changmo’s side while… whatever it was they wanted to do happened.

He couldn’t leave, not now. Not without Changmo.

Jinyoung had never thought of himself as a brave person. He didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or something else making him this recklessly courageous, but he suddenly wanted to face Jay.

It was as if Woo read his mind. He grabbed Jinyoung’s wrist and proceeded to pull him along.

Until there was a crash and pained noises from someone.

_ “Changmo!”  _ The yell echoed through the hallway.

Woo could do nothing but stop and stare in utter shock and horror.

“You fucking idiot—”

He didn’t even get to finish the sentence before the door opened with a screech and Jay stepped outside. He grinned.

“What do we have here? A deserter.”

Wonjae stood in front of Jinyoung, shielding him with his body. “He hasn’t done anything wrong, Jay. We’ve got Changmo. He should go free.”

“Go free? Are you fucknig nuts?” Jay barked, balling his fists. He stood there, muscles tense, shirtless like the last time.

The curious thing was that he had no mask on. It was the first time Jinyoung could actually see his face. Except that he hardly had any time to process it. He was much more worried about the fact that Jay was ready to attack any second.

He wasn’t the one who attacked though.

Through the door Jinyoung saw Changmo, jumping up from a pile that was once a table—Jay must have kicked him into it, that must’ve been the sound they heard—and lunging at Simon, who was also in the room. They grappled until Changmo wrestled him to the ground, ripping his rifle from his hands and hitting him over the head with it. Simon went limp.

Changmo stood and pointed the rifle at Jay. Woo had his gun pointed at him as well. He was surrounded and as Jinyoung noticed, unarmed.

Jay was breathing heavily, throwing poisonous looks at Woo.

“Just let him go,” Changmo spoke calmly. “That’s all we ask.”

“I’m not going without you,” Jinyoung blurted out, balling his fists.

“Don’t be an idiot, Jinyoung,” Changmo spoke cooly, yet his gaze was pleading. “Go. We’ll cover for you.”

“No…” As Jinyoung’s voice faded, he thought he heard something. He turned his head just in time to see an approaching figure. “—LOOK OUT!”

This time his yell ended up saving, rather than fucking up the situation. Woo was quick to body slam against Jinyoung, pushing him to the ground as the one called Gray shot at them. Woo rolled onto his back, pointing his gun at the other. He didn’t hesitate. The bullet hit Gray in the abdomen. He stood there, blood pouring out of his wound and painting his clothing a darker black. He coughed, falling to his knees.

Woo scrambled to his feet, rushing over to his side. “Seonghwa! Fuck—” He fell to his knees, pulling Gray into his lap, pressing his palm to his wound. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“You’re sorry!? You’re sorry! You will be sorry,” Jay yelled, forgetting for a second that he was being held at gunpoint. As soon as he moved, Changmo fired.

Jay threw himself onto the ground, escaping the bullet by a hair. Changmo slowly made his approach while Jay stood up. He looked between Gray and Changmo.

“Motherfucker. You’ll regret this. Both of you will fucking regret this!” He turned to Woo. “He better not fuckign die or I’ll rip your fucking eyes out, you hear? I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Worry about yourself first, Jaebum,” Changmo said, now dangerously close.

Jinyoung saw it before it happened. Jay was close enough to do exactly what Changmo did to Simon.

“Changmo, be careful—!”

It was too late. Jay jumped forward and Changmo had no time to react. They grappled much like Simon and Changmo had, except that Jay was not as easy to throw off.

“Jinyoung, go—!” Changmo yelled.

He didn’t have to be told twice.

Perhaps his stupid courage had left him. Perhaps it was a spur of the moment kind of thing, inspired by the love he felt for the man currently attempting to fight Jay off and not let him have the rifle.

But Jinyoung could not handle this. He was not prepared for guns, shootouts and open wounds. He was terrified, so much that he could hardly stand. It was adrenaline that was keeping him on his feet, what fueled him to run, as fast as he could away from there, even though he didn’t know where he was going.

He ran, he ran as fast as his legs would carry until—

Something tugged him back. He slammed to the ground, scrambled to get up onto his feet but soon he was grabbed by the hair.

“You little piece of shit.”

Simon’s voice.

When did he get up? How did he catch up to Jinyoung? How far did Jinyoung even come?

They were alone in the next hallway, which was the only of the two pieces of information Jinyoung had the time to process. The second was that Simon remained unarmed.

Jinyoung needed more than the split second he was given to calm down, to tell himself that he can take this. Jinyoung had taken opponents much bigger and stronger than Simon. Seeing how easily he went down against Changmo? This would be a piece of cake.

The only problem was Jinyoung’s injured arm from Jay taking out his frustration on him, as well as the fact that while Jinyoung was giving himself a pep talk, he’d already received a punch to the jaw.

He was thrown back, struggling to get up and clear his dizzy head.

He straightened up.

He could do this.

He put his fists up, took a stance. He blinked a few more times until his vision cleared, seeing Simon walking over rather leisurely towards him.

“You’re gonna fight me? Cute.” He said and grinned.

What he didn’t expect was a well-placed right uppercut that was so strong it threw Simon to the ground. Simon spat blood. He was struggling to get up when Jinyoung kicked him in the abdomen.

He fell down, curling up on his side. Jinyoung kicked him so that he was lying on his back and sat on his chest. He hit him, he hit him over and over, in the face, in the nose, in the jaw. He punched Simon until he was no longer moving.

Jinyoung stood up slowly, shaking. He watched his own doing, the puddle of blood around Simon’s head. His throat stung, his vision became blurry with tears.

He walked, he didn’t know where.

He’d just killed a man.

He didn’t check, but…. it was likely true.

When Jinyoung came to, he realized that he was back in the bigger hallway where everything began. Woo was dead, shot in the head. Gray lay still, but with open eyes. Jinyoung thought he saw him move, still.

He should have been looking at Jay, though.

A loud bang. A sharp pain in his stomach. Jinyoung looked down, at the quickly spreading crimson red stain on his already dirty white shirt.

Jinyoung looked up as Changmo screamed,  _ no _ .

Another bang. Jay swayed, blood pouring out of his mouth, before dropping to the ground.

Jinyoung’s legs gave out. He fell to his knees, then slammed onto the ground.

“Jinyoung… Jinyoungie!” Changmo screamed. Jinyoung heard footsteps. And a bang.

Jay… no, it couldn’t have been him. He got a bullet to the head. Gray… he’d been moving when Jinyoung arrived.

All of this has led to this moment.

Jinyoung staring ahead, paralyzed. His brain shutting down. Watching the man he loves attempting to crawl over, to reach for him.

Jinyoung wants to reach out as well, but he can’t move.

Everything goes black before Changmo gets to him.

**Author's Note:**

> finally uploaded this! I've worked on it very hard so comments and feedback are much appreciated!


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